Sundown Sundays
by TheyCallMeDanger
Summary: In the heat of battle you find him there, and you can either leave him to die or you can bring him to life, but at what cost?
1. I The Creator

I. The Creator

I didn't believe much in fate anymore. The world always kept turning, life continued on, and nothing was ever set totally in stone unless you fought every day to make is so.

Though, something called me to the apex of destruction, the very center of a slaughter so big, that never in all my years had I witnessed something so absolute. Bodies stacked on top of each other, careening towards the skies burning orange and red, pillars to humanity lost. The dead lay on the ground, stretched as far back as the eye could see.

With each step, the heel of my boot dug into flesh. The smell, a horrible fume reeking of toxicity and the air so barren that it warmed my skin like the breath of death. All around me was the biggest temptation that had ever crossed my path. It stained the ground, stained the skin of the Earth, all thanks to the hellfire below.

The evil though, was vanquished from the Earth once more. God had won, like all the stories before. As sin ravaged his land and all the things he created, his fallen sons turning brother against brother, famine pushing through the very fields he blessed, a line of war streaking through his beautiful masterpiece. Now his abandoned children, the wingless, defaced angels of burning wrath were once again sealed far below by his own hand.

A sound broke out like a gunshot in a quiet field. Like a distressed animal, the noise rose and fell pathetically. Whatever poor creature was uttering, it would meet its maker soon enough anyway. Something white brushed past my cheek, little brown seeds attached to spinning white, fuzzy flowers. Holding out my hand, the somber little dandelion danced across my palm before the wind swept it away.

Soon a fresh rain would come forth and try to wash away the dirt of the Earth, to scourge it clean of all the toxins that polluted it. New life would spring up and things would go back as it was, as it always had. It just simply was.

"Help…me." the hoarse, guttural plea nothing more than a whisper on a dying man's lips, but to my ears, it sounded in perfect clarity.

Moving aside bodies of the fallen, buried in their midst, was a man. Stubble covered his defined cheeks, a mouth reminiscent of the historic statues residing in Greece, but his eyes were what captivated me most. They were mossy depths, teeming with a life that was slipping by. I had seen many people die, but this death would be monumental. The blood that smeared his neck and soaked through his plaid button down were luminescent, glowing with a heavenly touch. This was heaven's chosen, who was strong enough to overcome Lucifer, but not without a heavy price to pay.

Lying my hand on his cheek, his skin radiated a warmth that even death would not take until heaven's energy seeped out of him and back into the ground. He leaned into my touch, the sound of his breathing growing fainter with every second that passed before us.

"Are you here…to take me to heaven?" the man asked.

"No. I'm not. Nor hell either. If you close your eyes time will pass quicker." I told him, sliding my hand down the expanse of his chest. His heart beat a dull drone, hitting the end of its drum roll. For most, time was not infinite, it did not last long at all before it was gone in the blink of an eye.

"Sammy…where is he. I can't die until I make sure he's okay, goddamit." Despite the pain, he tried to set himself up in a sitting position.

"If you don't want to die, I could help you." I said, it was within my ability. Despite the fact that I had never done it before, I did not retract my offer.

"Please. Help me." he collapsed back onto the casualties of the war, his eyes trained on me.

"You must know of my kind." Lips parting, I slid my tongue over the length of the protruding fangs. A thing of necessity. For hunting, for puncturing skin, and for protection they all our kind well enough to be our main staple. Even though his life was slipping away from him, he was retrospective as he weighed his options. Feebly grasping for me, through grit teeth, he commanded me to do it.

Moving from in front of him, I sat at his side. I felt no fear from coming from him, his body lie perfectly still. If not for the faint catch of breath in his throat, I would have almost suspected that he had left me. Pulling his shirt to the side, I pressed my lips against his heart beat. A Creator's Kiss, a promise of protection and guidance. After the vow was made, lips coasted to the main artery in his neck. It's pulsating slowing to a near halt, it was precious how vulnerable and fragile life was.

Sinking my teeth into him, I pulled my first taste of his blood. It was a cocktail of life; Pain, suffering, love, loss, happiness, fear, ecstasy, and joy filled his life blood. Like fine aged wine, it could become a drug of great addiction. Killing you to be without but eventually driving you to the brink of sanity to keep it. Blood taken from the dying was at its most potent. Closing my eyes, I succumbed to the nature of the blood.

His life unfurled as his blood ran over my tongue. I saw a brother he called Sammy, the bond that the two of them shared. There was strength and comfort he took from him, tethering them together for the rest of their lives. There were lots of women, his skin against theirs, blackly exciting scenarios that always ended in a painful need of a warmth to start from the inside that never quite made it that far. All the pain that his eyes had ever seen, all the breaking his heart was doing, was coursing through me.

When his thoughts left me, my body felt perfect. My memories seemed lackluster, not saturated in the same colors that this man, Dean Winchester, had. A strong man with a resolve fashioned from steel, a man of complexity that I didn't quite understand. I couldn't part with the nagging sensation of how beautiful he was. Nothing more than a compassionate man with his flaws, forged into so many forces into his life to be something other than who he would have been on his own.

He was a ruthless hunter for his father, a man that couldn't give him the time of day. He couldn't give him the love and attention that he so desperately craved. Heaven choosing him to be the holy vessel, with him, body and soul, protecting everything and everyone. Who protected Dean Winchester? Who gave him a choice in the matter? No one.

HIs teeth were clenched together tightly, sucking in his lower lip between them. Blood dripped down onto his chin. Whether it was directly caused by all his emotions entering me at once, but for the first time in ages, my own emotions surfaced. Cradling his face in my hands, I gingerly dabbed the blood away. Sweeping my thumb across his bottom lip, I caressed the soft skin, gently commanding him to open.

The concept of time meant nothing to me, but in his regards, we were running out of the precious little that he had. His jaw went slack, energy seeping from him, allowing me to be able to score my own wrist and guide it up to his mouth for him to drink. In the beginning, it was hard for him, choking him but as I bled more into him, he stopped fighting it.

Stroking his hair, his neck, and his face, I tried to sooth him, to give him some kind of piece of mind as I felt his body start to convulse. Trembling, his body fighting against a great storm inside him, I held him yet. Never had I ever created anyone like myself, born unto the world to walk it forever. A song came to mind, one pulled from deep in his memories, the melody easy to follow.

'" Hey Jude, don't make it bad. Take a sad song and make it better. Remember to let her into your heart, then you can start, to make it better."

Tension that had over taken his body started to subside and I continued to sing as I heard him take his last breath. I could hear the blood stop pumping in his veins, and his heart's very last drum. His mortal passing was quick and without as much pain as her blood could block out. Like her hour glass, whose sand had stopped falling, his had too.


	2. II New Blood

II. New Blood

Dying, he imagined was what it felt like when you were drowning. The lack of air, the panic, and the slow slipping into unconscious never to wake up again. This death though, the one he was experiencing right now, it hadn't felt like the other death he had faced. There wasn't Hell Hounds with an intent to tear him limb to limb, yes he had endured some pain this time around, but it wasn't the forefront of his mind when he finally went.

Last time, right whenever his heart stopped beating, all he could think about had been his family. The thought of Sammy, the picture of him so vivid with his sandy, shaggy hair and the same smile he used to wear when they were younger, before everything bad had started to fall on their shoulders. He saw his father, the one who had raised him when his mother was gone, but not as a son, but as a machine. Someone that even though he loved and truly respected, he realized that his way wasn't always right, his word wasn't God. Lastly, Bobby's image had flashed. A man who had taken them in when they had no one and gave them more love in that span of time than a lifetime with their father. All of those people that he loved, the only thing that he had to live for.

This time, there was no heavy hearted imagery of the family that he was going to be leaving behind, only black and white faded memories of a life that wasn't his. There was a woman, younger than he was, a bottle of Chardonnay held between dark red fingernails. Pallid skin, smooth as a statue, dressed to the nines in her black dress.

" It's been fun, but I have to go now, bye." she whispered to a man, wind whipped around her. The stars seemed closer, they were on a roof. Dean could only watch as she stood on the side of the building and then she took a leap. Her body felt like it was flying, weightless as she plummeted to the ground. She hit the pavement with enough force to knock the wind out of her, the Chardonnay bottle shattering into a million pieces. Tearing through the air, the screams seemed go on forever.

The next thing he knew, there was darkness. Using her foot, she kicked out underneath her. The sound of hollow metal echoed around her, the feeling cool against her bare foot. Again and again she kicked until a light shone through, illuminating in the small, metal cubicle that she was held captive in. With one last final kick, she was free. Looking around her, Dean could almost feel her sense of panic as she looked for something to wear, to cover up her naked body. A familiar dress lie on on a chair next to the table, but there was a long gash running through it from top to bottom. Settling for a coat that was hanging up on the wrack, she slid it on, and ran.

This time, there was light all around. It was beautiful, casting it's bright glow on the trees even if the place itself was depressing. Stone markers popped up from the ground, large gates loomed over them ominously. The letters too blurry for Dean to make out, her hands reached out to trace the letters, dropping the bouquet of fresh lilacs to the soft ground. The sadness was overbearing, like a goodbye to an old friend.

" Hey Jude, don't let me down, you have found her, now go out and get her.."

He needed, with every ounce of his being, to make sure that Sammy was okay, then he could do himself in or whatever, it didn't matter after that. He just had to see it, with his own two eyes.

Though ,whenever he tried to sit up, she put one hand on his chest and pushed him back down with relative ease. With all his might he tried to push her hands away, haul himself up, but his best efforts with all in vain; they earned him nothing.

" Listen, I'd love to stay here and chat. Thank you for helping me, but I really have to go find my brother right now."

Her signing halted, and she peered down at him, dark eyes scanning over him. He felt almost naked underneath her intense stare and he shifted uncomfortably.

" Dean. You can't just go to to your brother. You have to learn how to control yourself first."

So he would learn to control himself. As long as he knew how to walk and talk, the rest shouldn't be too damn hard right?

" Wrong." she stated, matter of fact. " The urges will be too much. Hunger will wrack your body like you've never eaten a day in your life. All the food in the world couldn't cure it, you'll need blood. Your body is already changing, for a while, you while be needy but you can't lay with just anyone. You will be too strong for humans, you will hurt them. I saw your heart, you're a good man Dean Winchester. If you leave now, you will kill many people. Can you live with that on your conscious?"

Dean thought about what she was saying. On one hand, he didn't know her. She didn't know him. How could she be so sure that what must have happened to her would happen to him? He didn't need her projected grief on him. On the other, she was a vampire and she had helped him, so why would she try to sabotage him right now? She had the experience whereas he did not. Already she was breaking one of vampires rules, no sunlight..and so was he. He thought about those vampires that he, Sammy, and his father had encountered.

" I wouldn't lie to you. I have no reason to. We're not like other vampires that you've seen Dean. I may not remember much of my life, but what I do remember is that us older ones went by a code. For us, turning a human is known as one of the most deadly sins. Those vampires you saw, yes I see it in your mind right now, were turned and forgotten. They were not taught the ways and they were not looked after so that they did not make mistakes. The vampires you helped…eventually they would be like us. We are not the monsters that everyone makes us out to be."

If she turned him, then that meant that she had taken on the deadliest sin, by her telling. Why would she do that for him? Trying to make sense of what she said, he impatiently squirmed, attempting to get out from under her grasp so that he could sit up. Her hand removed from his chest, without being prompted, and he grabbed onto her for support as he hoisted himself up. His body felt different, there was an eerie sense of quiet about it, and his head felt completely cleared of all it's previous clouds.

" Vampires are allowed to turn humans in two circumstances. Willing family members. Mother, daughter, father, children….provided that they are willing, they will allow. The second is to take on a consort. You can only have one true consort through out your life of becoming a vampire. I myself, have never turned anyone, so I have committed no wrong. You willingly agreed for the transaction to occur." she said, her voice reminded him of winter.

" What does that mean for us then, if you've consorted me? Does that mean I have to be your sex slave or something?" He asked incrudiously. It wasn't that she was bad looking, far from it, with her heart shaped lips and an impeccable cupids bow…delicate features on such a pretty face. It was more or less the fact that he had no idea how things went down with vampires. " So do we just bang and then I leave? Maybe you show me a few ways to get a hold of myself so I can go hunting? Is that how this all works?

" It is proper for one to lie with their consorts within ten days of the changing, given them a grace period to recover. Though, the rule was fashioned more out of a necessity than it is an actual staple. Semantics." she said, frowning like the ideal did not appeal to her in the slightest. If not for the fact that Dean was more focused on something else, he would have been offended." I can take you somewhere where I can show you everything that you need to know. Come with me, and quick if you want to beat the rain."

She stood before his eyes even had time to adjust, one second she was sitting beside him on the ground and the next her hand was in front of him with an offer to help him up. He took her hand and she hoisted him up without having to have him exert any energy on his own behalf.

" You'll get used to it, even be able to to do it yourself one day. Your body is still in it's adjusting phase. Things will get much different from here on out." her words did little to comfort him…how much different could they be.

" Can you stop doing that mind reading thing, I don't like." he said.

" I can show you how to block it. Everything will come to you in time." She said, walking briskly beside him. " Hold on to me. Tightly." she instructed. Wrapping his hand around her tiny wrist, he locked his fingers together in a fist with hers between them. Dean hoped he was making the right decision.


End file.
